


A Bad Idea

by foreword



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreword/pseuds/foreword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco play Truth or Dare, and things progress from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : Written back in 2007 with definite old school tropes and a very fanon!Draco, for spark_of_chaos in serpentinelion. Original post [here](http://serpentinelion.livejournal.com/113614.html).
> 
> Thank you to longleggedgit and noticeably for the fantastic and speedy betas!

This was probably a bad idea.

Hermione had come up with it. She'd thought it would be a good way to "promote inter-House relations". With McGonagall's blessing, she'd invited everyone to Gryffindor Tower for the evening, with mixed results. Hermione had expected a small group sharing a few butterbeers, and had hoped that everyone would head back to their respective dormitories around 9. Unfortunately, people like Draco Malfoy had shown up, and Seamus had decided to share some of his Firewhiskey with the guests. As a result, everyone was enjoying themselves far too much to leave as early as 9.

Now it was well past midnight. Hermione had stormed off to bed long ago, following Ron's first shot of whiskey. Some of the younger students had left, too, with the exception of Ginny, and somehow they'd all started playing Truth or Dare around the fire.

Harry had successfully avoided both Malfoy and his turn so far, and he was half-hoping to avoid both for the rest of the night. He _was_ a little curious about what he'd get asked to do. He felt a strange sort of excitement at the prospect, but at the same time he was relieved to be out of the spotlight for once.

"Potter, truth or dare?" Malfoy asked suddenly, and Harry started. He hadn't even noticed that it was Malfoy's turn—and maybe it wasn't. Everyone was watching him, waiting, their eyes sparkling with excitement. The room felt like it was spinning, a blur of alcohol, laughter and perfume, and Harry was feeling light-headed in the face of it all. 

He paused for a moment, though he already knew what he would say. There was no way he was going to reveal anything personal to such a large group of people, and he had no doubt that Malfoy would ask him something embarrassing. Besides, Harry didn't want Malfoy to think he was afraid of something.

"Dare," he said finally, though he could hardly hear himself through the rushing in his ears. 

Draco Malfoy, who should have never been invited to this weird, surreal sort of drunken slumber party, smiled. His teeth looked sharp, reminding Harry of Fleur Delacour and Veela, and he half-expected Malfoy to turn into a shrieking, whirling monster. Instead, he laughed. 

"All right, Potter. I dare you to kiss a bloke."

Harry stared dully back at him, and the circle of sixth years erupted into giggles and whispers. "What?" Harry asked, though he'd heard Draco perfectly. 

"You really haven't played this game before, have you?" Malfoy said with a sigh. Harry watched with some concern as he got to his feet, stretched leisurely, and strolled his way around the circle to plop himself down next to Harry. He had to bunch up his legs to fit between Harry and Ginny, and Ginny was watching this development with something akin to curious horror. He looped one arm loosely around his knees, and Harry was still staring at him with a modicum of surprise when he felt Malfoy's fingers pushing up under his chin. 

Harry realized what was happening when it was too late—when Malfoy's breath was tickling his face and his lips were brushing Harry's. Malfoy's nose felt sharp when it suddenly collided with Harry's, and one of his elbows caught Harry on the shoulder as he struggled in surprise. But Malfoy was already pressing his lips firmly against Harry's, and Harry felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him. He opened his mouth against the onslaught, hoping to manage an objection, but Malfoy seemed to take Harry's open mouth as an invitation. Suddenly Malfoy was pushing his tongue in Harry's mouth, and he nearly choked as he felt it, warm and wet and shoving insistently against his own. 

Draco Malfoy had his tongue in Harry's mouth.

And then it was over. Malfoy was already standing and crossing back to his seat, amid catcalls and giggling. Harry glanced nervously around him, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand as if he could wipe away what had just happened. Ron caught his eye with a worried, nauseous expression, and Harry answered his confused stare with a shrug. 

"Your turn, Harry," Seamus said helpfully, and Harry shook his head fervently, standing up and looking everywhere but at Malfoy. 

"I've got to go to bed. Night."

His ears burned with embarrassment, but Harry ignored the whispering that followed him out of the common room. He climbed the stairs to his dormitory two at a time, and lurched into his bed without even taking off his trainers. 

Still, it took Harry hours to fall asleep that night. It wasn't until well after everyone else had returned, laughing and smelling of alcohol, that he managed to drift off.

Even then, his dreams were haunted by Malfoy's face, and he woke with the first gray light of dawn.

\---  


Three days. It took _three_ days for Malfoy to bring it up. Harry was surprised. He'd expected to be accosted the next day by Crabbe and Goyle, had expected to see some sort of exposé in the Sunday Prophet, had expected anything except the eerie normality that followed that night.

By the third day, Harry was starting to think that he'd imagined it all. 

"Potter."

It was more of a question than a greeting this morning, and Harry nearly snorted his pumpkin juice in surprise as he looked up. Malfoy was towering over him, and the chatter from the Gryffindors on either side of him was fading into whispers as everyone turned to watch.

"What?" Harry asked, trying his best to sound more annoyed than curious. He studiously avoided looking at Ron, who was glancing back and forth between him and Malfoy with much the same expression that Ginny had worn the other night.

"I wish you'd stop staring," Malfoy said casually, comfortably shoving Ron aside to take a seat across from Harry. Ron nearly fell into Hermione, and his goblet was upended in the process, spilling out across the table to pour into Lavender Brown's lap.

Malfoy looked unfazed by the shrieking, regarding Harry as if he had no idea what sort of chaos he'd just created.

"I'm not staring!" Harry objected. Malfoy smiled, picking at a piece of toast Ron had left unattended. Ron shoved away from the table in anger, and Harry half-expected him to knock Malfoy off the bench when McGonagall approached.

"Is there a problem, Mister Weasley?" she asked quietly. Ron seemed for a moment as if he was going to respond. Instead, he shook his head, grabbed his books, and left the Great Hall. Hermione trailed out after him, shooting Harry concerned looks over her shoulder as she went.

McGonagall paused long enough to favour Harry with a look that never meant anything good before she turned away, choosing to ignore Malfoy's table-hopping. Harry waited until she was well out of earshot before speaking.

"What's your problem?" he asked, but Malfoy was too busy laughing to respond. Frustrated and annoyed, Harry shoved away from the table, intent on following his friends up to Gryffindor tower and pretending that he'd never seen Malfoy before.

"Meet me on the pitch tonight, Potter. Midnight. Bring your little broom. Unless you're scared…"

Harry opened his mouth to tell him where he could stick his _little broom_ , but Malfoy was already sauntering back towards the Slytherin table.

\---  


Harry couldn't say why he'd shown up here. In retrospect, this was probably part of some stupid Slytherin plan to get Harry expelled. Still, he wasn't going to be a coward. There was nothing Malfoy could throw at him that scared Harry. At least, that's what he told himself.

"You're early, Potter."

Harry turned, gripping his Firebolt in one hand, and ready to tell Malfoy how irritating he was. He was surprised to find that Malfoy hadn't so much as brought a broom.

"How're we supposed to…" Harry started, awkward and confused. Malfoy smiled in his typically annoying fashion, and slung out his arm, catching hold of the broom where Harry was gripping it. He wrapped his fingers around Harry's as if this was normal, as if this wasn't something totally weird, and Harry stared down at their linked fingers in confusion.

"Going to take me for a ride or what?" Malfoy asked.

Harry meant to shake his head no, tell Malfoy how strange he was, and leave. But Malfoy had stepped closer to him now, was close enough that Harry could feel him breathing. He could feel Malfoy's pulse thrumming along, and he wasn't sure if it was from the touch of his fingers or the intense focus Harry currently had on Malfoy's throat. 

"Malfoy, I'm not…"

"You're not what, Potter? You're not smart, or interesting, or even attractive? It's okay, I know."

"I'm not gay!" Harry shouted, and Malfoy burst into laughter as Harry's voice bounced off the bleachers, echoing around them in a chorus of _gay_.

"I hate you," Harry hissed, and he turned to leave. He had made it most of the way across the pitch when Malfoy knocked into him, sending him sprawling. He lay for a moment on his stomach, staring at the grass tickling his nose, blinking against his skewed glasses and thinking distantly that he couldn't breathe.

"Get up, Potter," Malfoy said somewhere behind him, but Harry wouldn't. He focused on the blades of grass, ignoring the dull ache in his back and trying to take in air. 

"Prick," he finally managed, sending Malfoy into renewed peals of laughter.

"Oh Potter. You may not be intelligent or charming or any of those things, but you certainly can be funny."

Harry gritted his teeth, rolling onto his back with a concentrated effort and lying still, staring up at Malfoy with as much hatred as he could muster. "What is your problem?"

Malfoy frowned, as if the question didn't make sense to him. "What's yours?"

"I don't have a problem. You're the one that started all of this."

Malfoy looked genuinely affronted at this, and Harry felt a mild sense of victory. "I didn't start anything. You're deluded."

" _I'm_ deluded?" Harry asked, climbing to his feet and sucking air in through his teeth. "You _kissed_ me!"

"You liked it," Malfoy said. He was smiling again.

Harry hit him before he realized he was swinging. His fist connected with the side of Malfoy's face with a painful _crack_ and he pulled his hand away like he'd been burned, clutching it with desperate, muted noises of pain as Malfoy fell backwards.

"Queer!" Malfoy shouted as he fell, clutching his jaw and hitting the ground without trying to catch himself. "Fucking pouf!"

Harry stared down at Malfoy, rolling slowly in the grass of the pitch and shrieking obscenities about his jaw. He _had_ liked it, he realized now, and he felt bad for hitting Malfoy over it.

"Sorry," Harry offered weakly, and Malfoy glared up at him, spitting with rage and still clutching the side of his face. 

"You're _sorry_?! Do you really think that's enough to make up for splitting my jaw open, you fucking moron?"

Harry flexed his fingers, curling them into a fist again, his heart thumping in his chest in some mixture of excitement, anger, and terror. "I didn't…. _split your jaw_."

Malfoy lurched unsteadily to his feet, stumbling nearly into Harry, one hand still clutched protectively over the side of his face. "Fuck it. Nothing's worth all of this."

He was already nearing the castle, his angry little strides carrying him quickly, when Harry reacted. "Wait!" he called after him, and he almost didn't think Malfoy would turn around. After a moment, though, he stopped, glaring at Harry over his shoulder, looking murderous as Harry trotted up to him.

"We could… fly, if you wanted to," Harry suggested, a bit breathless.

Malfoy didn't respond, and Harry waited in horrified expectation, either for Malfoy to scream about his broken jaw or for him to accept, Harry wasn't sure which. This moment reminded him powerfully of when he'd asked Cho Chang to the Yule Ball, and Harry felt nauseous with anxiety.

"Potter—" Malfoy started, but he was interrupted as the front doors swung open. Professor McGonagall stood in the entryway, framed by the soft light of the Entrance Hall and fuming with righteous anger.

"Fifty points from both of you!"

Harry nodded, dazed, and pushed past Malfoy into the castle, hearing only vaguely Malfoy's tales of physical abuse. He could feel McGonagall's disapproving stare follow him up the steps.

"Mister Potter?" She said, interrupting Draco's declaration that he'd broken his jaw.

Harry stopped on the stairs, his bruised hand not quite gripping the banister. "Yes?" he asked quietly.

"I'm assuming that the fighting wasn't one-sided. Detentions for both of you, starting tomorrow evening. For now, I'll ask that you both report to the Hospital Wing."

\---  


Malfoy had done nothing but complain since they got here. If he wasn't whining about how unfair and undeserved this punishment was, he was insisting that Madame Pomfrey hadn't mended his jaw properly.

"You're such an oaf," he told Harry, as he tossed a cushion at him. They were supposed to be straightening the Transfiguration classroom (the third years had made a mess of things today, trying to transfigure cushions into potholders). Malfoy apparently preferred tossing the cushions at Harry to stacking them neatly in the corner. "Nearly as bad as Crabbe and Goyle. I mean it," he said, his tone full of sad conviction. "I don't know how you even made it into this school."

Harry sighed, placing the cushion he'd just caught carefully on top of the pile and refusing to comment, though his anger grew with every rude remark.

"What are we supposed to do when the stack gets too big, anyway? There's no way all of the cushions will fit up there."

Harry shrugged. "I guess we'll have to shrink them."

He looked up to find Malfoy smiling, a sight so unsettling that Harry stopped what he was doing. "What?"

But Malfoy had turned away from him, and was now eyeing the pile of cushions, his wand outstretched. "Potter, you like snakes, right?"

"Malfoy—" Harry started, but it was too late. In the next moment, the pile of cushions nearest Harry had erupted into a tangled mass of snakes, hissing and sliding out from underneath each other in an angry, seething panic. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Malfoy clambering onto a desk.

He whirled to face him, even as the snakes began untangling from the hissing, angry knot. "What the hell did you do that for?" 

Malfoy's expression was a mixture of excitement and concern. "I thought you were good with snakes, Potter," he said breathlessly. "Why don't you fix it?"

Harry didn't really have time to argue, or point out that thinking he was good with snakes was no reason to transfigure a pile of cushions into them. The snakes were closer to him than Malfoy, and they weren't reacting well to his shouting.

"Calm down," Harry said to the snakes, trying his best to speak soothingly. "I'm sorry, I know you're confused, but calm down. I'll fix this."

The writhing mass had quieted somewhat, and now the snakes were watching him, lifting and bobbing their heads curiously, their tongues flicking out in interest as they moved closer to Harry. He continued murmuring and whispering to the snakes as he drew out his wand, hissing a calming sort of chant as he closed his eyes, and focused on returning the snake-cushions to actual cushions.

The hissing faded into silence, and Harry opened his eyes to find a mess of cushions, scattered and stacked across the floor haphazardly. He glanced over his shoulder at Malfoy, considering giving him another broken jaw, but forgot his anger in surprise. Malfoy was perched on the desk still, pink-cheeked and excited. He licked his lips nervously as he glanced between Harry and the former snakes.

"Do it again?" he asked breathlessly, and Harry stared.

"Do what again? Clean up your mess?"

"The… the hissing, do it again."

Harry was so bewildered by this request that he didn't immediately respond. "You want me to… hiss at you?"

"What were you saying?" Draco said in a rush, clambering off of the desk and trotting across the room to Harry. "What did you tell them?"

Harry stared.

"I… told them to calm down. They were upset."

Draco gazed at him with something like wonder, and Harry swallowed as he stepped a little closer. "Really, what else did you say? You were hissing for a while."

Harry licked his lips nervously and tried not to watch the way Malfoy's eyes followed the movement of his tongue. "I just… I don't know. I just tried to calm them down."

"Do it again," Draco said again, though this time it was more of a demand than a request.

"I can't, it's not like—"

"Please," Draco said, and Harry was surprised to find the other boy taking hold of his hand. Harry stared down as their fingers linked, trying to imagine snakes and forget their fingers as he spoke. 

"What do you want me to say?" he asked the imaginary snakes. Draco gasped and gripped Harry's hand harder, looking increasingly unsteady on his feet. Harry wondered if he'd actually injured Malfoy's brain somehow last night, and said as much aloud.

Malfoy reacted as if Harry had shoved him. He stumbled away from Harry, angry and flushed, and managed to throw one more cushion at him before he slammed his way out of the room. Harry stared after him in confusion.

Malfoy had lost it.

\---  


"Potter!" Seamus greeted him, slapping Harry heartily on the back as he stepped through the portrait hole. "Welcome back. Good to see you."

Harry paused uneasily, wondering how long Seamus had been standing there, waiting for him to come back from detention. It had taken him a bit longer to finish up, since Malfoy had left early. "Uh… yeah, great to see you, too."

"So, want to play Spin the Bottle, then?" Seamus grinned, full of hope and mischievous expectation.

Harry stared. Someone behind him snickered, and before he turned around, he knew it was Malfoy.

"Oh," Harry said as he turned, "I was going to go to bed…"

He supposed he'd expected to find more people sitting around in front of the Gryffindor fire. He'd thought that he'd find familiar, friendly faces smiling back at him, just like the night they'd all played Truth or Dare. 

Instead, it was just Malfoy.

"Spin the Bottle," Harry repeated dully. Seamus laughed.

"I should just leave you two to it, then."

Harry stared after him in mute horror as Seamus trotted up the stairs to their dormitory. He didn't break his stare for a long moment, even after Seamus had disappeared inside. He couldn't imagine what he'd say when he finally looked at Malfoy. Malfoy, who had yet to apologize for running out on detention, spoke first.

"Potter, come here."

Harry looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"Don't be a prick. My jaw hurts too much to talk. Come here."

Harry sighed. "Your jaw is fine. Madame Pomfrey fixed it." He found himself walking over to Malfoy despite his objections, and Malfoy smiled even as he argued about his painful jaw.

"Did not. That stupid cow wouldn't know how to fix a papercut."

Harry sat down heavily beside him. "Your jaw is fine. If she'd been trying to fix your brain, I'd be worried."

"Oh, fuck off, Potter," Malfoy said, shoving Harry weakly. He let his fingers rest on Harry's arm for a moment after shoving him, and Harry looked down at Malfoy's hand in curious dread. It was better, easier than looking up at his face, and it took a minute for Malfoy to draw his hand back. 

"How did you get in here?" Harry asked, still staring after Malfoy's fingers.

"Finnigan let me in," Malfoy answered quietly. His tone was an attempt at easiness, at relaxation, but Harry didn't buy it. Malfoy sounded nervous, and Harry was reminded of the flushed, frightened boy that had run out of the Transfiguration classroom only a few hours earlier.

Malfoy was staring at him when Harry glanced up, and there was definite fear in his eyes. It reminded Harry a great deal of the day Hermione had slapped him, or the time Buckbeak had attacked him. He wondered if Malfoy expected Harry to hurt him.

"Why did you…" Harry trailed off. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to ask. Why did Malfoy want to come into Gryffindor in the first place? Why did Malfoy react the way he had to Harry speaking parseltongue? 

"You never took me for that ride," Malfoy said.

His gaze was steady, with a haughty sort of tilt to it that implied that Harry had promised something he'd failed to deliver.

"I didn't think—"

"Well that's hardly a surprise, is it? Do you ever?"

His tone was snotty enough to make Harry irritated, but it was the same sort of irritation that Malfoy's malingering brought on; a strange, affectionate, disbelieving irritation.

"I don't think it would be good if McGonagall caught us outside after curfew again," he said finally. 

Malfoy burst into laughter. "Are you seriously thinking about riding your broom right now?"

Harry flushed with embarrassment and shrugged. The prospect of getting another detention from McGonagall seemed much less scary than whatever Malfoy had in mind at the moment.

Malfoy had stopped laughing, and there was a momentary, awkward silence before he spoke again. "Where _is_ everyone, anyway? Are Gryffindors always in bed before curfew, or is tonight special?"

Harry sighed. It was well after curfew. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said dryly. Malfoy shrugged.

"From the way Finnigan was talking, I expected another group thing, like the other night." 

"What did he say, exactly?"

Malfoy smiled, and then grimaced in afterthought, touching his jaw tenderly. Harry rolled his eyes. "He said that I should come up, that I'd have a good time."

Harry swallowed, wondering why his chest felt so tight at the thought of Seamus inviting Draco up to the Tower for a 'good time'. "Oh," he said.

Draco sighed and threw his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "Apparently Finnigan's idea of a good time is sitting around, waiting for you to come through the portrait hole."

Harry felt himself blush again, and Draco lolled his head to the side, gazing at Harry lazily. "Took you long enough, too."

"Sorry," Harry said stiffly. "Somehow, I ended up covering two detentions."

"You shouldn't be so magnanimous, Potter," Malfoy said, though pink was creeping into his cheeks at the mention of detention.

"Why did you leave?" Harry asked suddenly. He hadn't meant to ask—he didn't want Malfoy to think he cared either way, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

Malfoy turned his gaze to his lap, and then over his shoulder, at the back wall of the common room. "I thought it was obvious."

Harry stared, waiting for him to elaborate. When Malfoy continued staring at the wall instead, Harry tried again. "It wasn't."

"I had to…" Malfoy began, but he paused uneasily. 

After a considerable pause, Harry prodded further. "Had to what?"

Malfoy's face was definitely pink now, and he was chewing on his lip an impressive amount for someone with a serious jaw injury. "I ran into Finnigan outside the loo," he said in a rush. Harry gave him a dubious look, and after a moment, Malfoy glanced back at him.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Noth—" Harry started, but something had just clicked, some whisper of an idea of what Malfoy could have been up to in the boy's room, looking so flustered.

Malfoy, apparently noticing Harry's realization, leapt up suddenly from the couch and bolted for the portrait hole. Harry stumbled after him, catching his wrist with just enough force to send them both toppling over.

They hit the floor with a painful thud of tangled limbs, Malfoy cursing about his broken bones, and Harry wondering what he was doing. Currently he was resting on his elbows over Malfoy, straddling one of his legs. Malfoy's left foot seemed curled around Harry's ankle, and for some reason this made him feel as if he wouldn't be able to move again. Malfoy certainly wasn't—Harry had never seen him so still before.

"Why do you keep leaving?" he managed to say through shallow breaths, as casually as the situation permitted.

"Because," Malfoy said. "You're an idiot."

Harry was just opening his mouth to object when Malfoy kissed him, pushing himself off of the floor the best that he could with his _broken bones_. It was just like before—sharp elbows, an awkward collision of noses, and a warm, wet kiss—and Harry couldn't think of anything he'd rather be doing.

_This_ was probably a bad idea.


End file.
